


Intoxicated

by quietpastelcolours



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blood Drinking, Bloodslave AU, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Graphic depictions of violence - Freeform, Vampire AU, and vampire slayers, basically Satya's a vampire and Jamie's a human with very delicious blood, jamie had better buckle the fuck up, there will be other vamps, vampire stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-02-03 05:47:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12742203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quietpastelcolours/pseuds/quietpastelcolours
Summary: When Satya Vaswani, an immortal vampire, has her perfectly structured world thrown into disarray by the sweetest human she's ever tasted, her life will never be the same again.





	1. First Blood

Junkrat scurried down the street, eyeing people up as he went and gauging how rich he thought they might be, and if he spotted a nice one, he pickpocketed them, slipping their wallet or phone into the satchel at his waist. He paused to adjust his frag launcher, tucked out of sight beneath his oversized coat, before disappearing deeper into the metropolitan downtown area. He was thoroughly enjoying civilisation – he and Hog had blown Australia a few months ago, and now were blasting through the Americas, cruising through Europe, and robbing Asia blind – like now. He could barely even remember what city he was in, or even what country – the people didn’t speak English (most of the time) and so he largely ignored them, more focused on the contents of their wallets. Hog was gonna be pissed right the fuck off – the bigger Junker had fallen asleep, but Junkrat, antsy and bored and full of coffee he shouldn’t have drunk, had snuck out of their temporary base for a little moonlight thieving. He didn’t mean to steal much, nor pull off a world class heist, but this wasn’t Australia.

It meant he had to be careful in different ways than he was used to, and that meant he could make a mistake. Junkrat had no intention of making a mistake – he’d never hear the end of it from Hog.

He and Hog had been in this city for a few weeks, and were thinking of moving on soon. They’d robbed a bank the city over and Interpol was buzzing – he did _not_ want to be arrested.

He forgot himself after a little while and started humming enthusiastically as he found a car parked on the side of the road. He carefully pried open the bonnet, wincing at the screech of metal, then realised he was humming and cut himself off abruptly, curling in on himself to make a smaller target as he glanced warily around. When he spotted no one, he relaxed slightly and turned his attention to the inside of the car, taking stock. The engine was too big to take, but there were tubes and wires and various things that’d make a good addition to his collection. The radiator was in good nick – Junkrat detached it carefully and placed it in his rucksack, then got down on the ground and crawled under the car to have a better look. He and his wrench got to work, and he soon had a neat little pile of scrap he could take with him, either to build or modify his creations with, or to sell somewhere. Either way, it was a productive night for him, and he was thrilled with his haul. Crawling out from beneath the car, he wiped his oily hands on his chest and squinted through the streets – there was someone coming. He should go.

He’d come further than he’d meant to, and that meant he had a hell of a slog through the city streets to get back to Roadie, and so Junkrat poked along in the darkness, swearing under his breath as he hoped he was going in the right direction, and tripped something in the dark as he went.

He rounded a corner and paused, briefly illuminated by a flickering streetlamp, when movement caught his eye. Junkrat stared down the street for a moment, and then a distinctly human figure straightened out of a crouch as it dropped another _distinctly_ human person to the ground and instinct took over - he bolted.

Little did he know, he was being pursued.

 

* * *

 

All conscious thought had vanished.

Satya had thought she had quenched her thirst but then as someone rounded the corner and the cool night breeze blew his scent towards her, flames crawled up her throat and took over her very thoughts. She dropped the corpse she’d been feeding on, ignoring the body as it sprawled limply at her feet. Primal need flowed through her, sending her after the man as he fled. He was easy to follow – the sound of his breathing and the impact of metal on stone sounded loud as gunshots in the still night air, and that wasn’t even counting the sound of his heart or the pumping of blood in his veins. She caught him up and then passed him, causing him to veer down an alley way – a dead end.

Satya locked every muscle in her body, her teeth clamped shut hard enough to make a muscle in her jaw tic. The man was standing with his back against the wall, some sort of weapon aimed squarely at her.

“Oi!” He said, sounding pissed with a hint of fear beneath. “The hell y’doin’?”

Bravado wouldn’t work on her – all she could think of was his scent.

It was incredible, intoxicating.

Mouth-watering.

Venom filled her mouth in preparation of slaking her thirst – she’d been feeding when he’d interrupted and she did feel somewhat full, but that no longer mattered in the face of him – in the scent of his blood. All humans smelt delicious, of course – though blood could be tainted by drugs or illness or other assorted things, and so Satya likened blood to perfume – some smelt bad, most smelt okay, some were her favourites, but this – she had never seen anything like it.

She’d heard of humans whose blood could sing to the senses, but she had never experienced it herself – she had always thought that the tales told by others of her kind were mere hyperbole. Not this – she had never experienced anything like this.

She needed to taste him. The scent of him was so incredibly appealing – she could only imagine the feel of his blood flowing across her tongue.

She moved, slipping through the shadows faster than the human eye could follow and had him pressed against the wall in an instant, knocking his frag launcher from his grip before she locked one hand around his jaw, pushing his head back to get at his throat. Satya pressed her nose against his skin, eyes closed in sheer bliss as she revelled in the heat of him, his scent, the feel of his blood flowing just beneath the surface of that fragile skin… so entranced by him was she, that Satya forgot to break his neck.

She always snapped her victim’s necks; it made things simple, easy, and far less messy when they didn’t struggle and she could drag them to a secluded area and feed at her leisure. This time around, she was far too interested in his blood to worry about such trivial matters. Well, she regretted it when the man tangled his hand into her hair and ripped her head back, his other hand slamming up beneath her jaw. She’d had her mouth open, her tongue greedily exploring the salty sweet canvas of his skin, and the impact of his hand nearly made her bite her tongue off. Satya spat out a mouthful of her own blood and glared at him, then pulled her lips back off her teeth to bare her fangs at him. The man stopped struggling, his mouth dropping open as he noticed her fangs for the first time, his face going an ashy grey.

“Wha – wha – what the fuck!?” He yelped, then tried to hit her again, lashing out with a hand made of metal. Satya was better prepared this time and she caught his wrist in mid-air and twisted it around until he cried out in pain, and then the scent of his blood took over her senses once more and she leaned in, her other hand forcing his head back to get at the pulse beating in his throat. She sank her teeth into his flesh with none of her usual precision and he screamed, convulsing beneath her as she greedily swallowed, revelling in the blood flowing across her tongue. It was messy and brutal, and she’d never caused such a ragged, untidy wound before in her life, but stuck in the moment with his blood on her tongue, she couldn’t care less.

He tasted incredible – sublime. His blood was sweeter than anything she’d ever tasted and Satya closed her eyes, her entire form curling around his body to pull him closer as she drank. He fell limp, a gasping rattle in his throat as he sagged against her, and then some small voice in the back of her mind told her she was stupid to waste this all at once. If she drained him dry now, what were the odds of her _ever_ finding blood like this again? After all, she’d lived for millennia and this was the first time she’d ever found a human whose blood sang so sweetly… how could she go back to feasting on ordinary mortals, once delicious, but now bland?

No, she had to stop before she killed him.

It was the hardest thing she’d ever done, but Satya pulled back, a whimper escaping her throat as the blood welled from the wound at his neck, _taunting_ her. His scent burned through her, calling to her, and Satya pinched her nose shut as she spat messily into her other hand, getting as much venom into her palm as possible before she slathered it over his wound. It was disgusting and it repulsed her, but venom could seal wounds shut, she knew that much. She had never kept bloodslaves herself, preferring the impartiality of the hunt, but she knew how others of her kind used their venom to prevent their bloodslaves from dying of their wounds.

Satya clamped her hand over his wound, watching the man’s flickering eyelids in a vain attempt to distract herself from the free-flowing blood – her jaw was clenched so tightly it hurt, and every part of her ached to bite into him again, to drink deeply and taste that divine essence once more. When she could no longer feel blood against her palm, she removed her hand to find the wound had sealed, the blood around it coagulating under her gaze. Lifting her palm to her face, Satya closed her eyes and released her nose, a beatific smile on her face as she licked her hand, sucking her fingers clean of every drop of blood she could find.

She forced herself to release him and stood up, wondering what to do as he remained slumped on the ground. She was taking him with her, _that_ much was certain. She pressed her fingers to his pulse and gritted her teeth against the tempting blood pumping beneath his skin – he was alive, though she could hear his heart struggling and his breathing was weak and uneven – she wasn’t sure how much she had drunk, but she knew he had lost a lot of blood, and she needed to move swiftly if she didn’t want him to expire.

Satya’s natural caution made her gather up his belongings, unwilling to leave any evidence behind in case he had friends who would search once they realised he was missing, and then she steadied herself and scooped up his unconscious form, slinging him over one shoulder before she carried him away.


	2. Captive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junkrat wakens in a dark room with no memory of how he got there

Junkrat was dizzy.

He couldn’t work out why he felt unwell and that was annoying him, and when he finally opened his eyes he was confused all over again. Had he… fallen asleep? He tried to move and realised his metal hand was not on his stump, and that was alarming, to say the least. He paused and blinked in the pitch blackness and tried to work out what the fuck was happening, and when he sat up, something jerked against his wrist. With a foreboding feeling brewing in his gut, Junkrat gently tugged with his hand and swore harshly under his breath when he realised he was handcuffed to something.

He made himself stop and think, and paused to take stock of his surroundings.

It was very dark, but he couldn’t see the moon or the stars, so either one hell of a storm had sprung up (unlikely, seeing as there was no wind or burning rain) or he was inside a building. He was _definitely_ handcuffed to something – he reached out to explore as much as he could and determined that he was cuffed to a bed. Junkrat grumbled to himself, assuming that he’d been jumped by Junkers and they’d locked him up, until he moved just the wrong way and pain radiated through his form, starting at his neck, and with the pain, all his memories came rushing back. He wasn’t in Australia anymore – he _couldn’t_ have been jumped by Junkers.

Junkrat jerked in realisation – the _woman_.

The fucking _scary_ woman, quiet as a mouse with creepy eyes and a mouthful of vicious fangs – fuck, she’d _bitten_ him! Junkrat lifted his stump to his neck and tried to feel around – he couldn’t tell much, but he seemed to have been bandaged. Weird. So the woman was some sort of cannibal, and maybe she’d been scared off? But then, where was he? Why would someone save him from a lunatic cannibal with filed teeth, only to cuff him to a damn bed? Junkrat moved around a bit in frustration, and then his foot bumped against something. After some investigations (slow going, with only his stump and his feet to aid him) he established that it was most likely a floor lamp… and if he was lucky, it’d be the kind with the switch on the floor that you stand on. After feeling about a bit, he silently cheered to himself when he located the switch and pressed it with his toe. The light flickered on, illuminating the room, and Junkrat damn near had a heart attack.

The creepy cannibal lady was _in the bed he was handcuffed to_.

Junkrat froze and stared, but she didn’t even twitch. She looked, all things considered, dead. She didn’t even seem to be breathing.

“Well that’s just fuckin’ great.” He mumbled to himself, squinting at her, and then around at his surroundings. He was in a hotel room, now he thought about it – an extremely modern, fancy looking one, with very expensive looking white furniture. Something weird – every single window was completely blacked out, with such tightly fitting blinds they let not a hint of light through.

Junkrat thought this was strange but not _too_ strange –until he noticed the clock on the bedside table, which very clearly said _1:46 pm_. _1:46?_ In the afternoon? Junkrat screwed up his face in confusion. The clock must be wrong. Why the fuck would someone be asleep, dead to the world, at this hour?

He looked at the woman again, who still hadn’t moved a muscle, and the longer he looked, the more he became concerned that she wasn’t alive. That’d be just his fuckin’ luck – kidnapped by the crazy cannibal, only to have her up and fuckin’ die on him – and him cuffed to the bed!

“Oi!” Junkrat called loudly, trying to see if she was dead or not, but he got no response. “Oi, lady! What the fuck! Wake up! Hey! Wake the _fuck_ up!” No response. She didn’t even twitch. “Great.” He muttered. “She’s gone an’ fuckin’ died.”

He looked about once more, and spotted his metal arm stashed against the opposite wall – it was sitting atop a glossy white table, looking thoroughly out of place. The sight cheered him up immensely, because if he got out of this bloody handcuff, he could just grab his arm and look for his explosives and be on his merry way. Junkrat turned his attention to the cuff, and immediately discovered some difficulties – one, it was gonna be bloody hard to pick a lock with no immediately accessible fingers. He scowled at his stump and then across the room at his metal hand, then settled on plan B – shouting for help. There had to be other people at this hotel, yeah? If not guests, then surely there’d be the people working in the office. Junkrat opened his mouth and filled his lungs, ready for a good long scream (he planned on alerting people and playing the victim. Maybe a people trafficking thing? Yeah, well, it didn’t matter much, so long as it got him out of this bloody handcuff. Once free, he’d get his shit and scarper). Just as he was about to start yelling, he noticed the plate sitting on the floor next to him and the sound died in his throat.

There was a roast chicken sandwich and a tall glass of orange juice arranged neatly on a tray, and propped up against the sandwich, was a note. Junkrat frowned and flopped onto his belly, the position uncomfortably tugging at his cuffed wrist, but he ignored it in favour of studying the words the cannibal lady had written in an elegant, old-fashioned script.

_I have taken the precaution of writing you this note in the likely event that you wake up before I do. I have treated you, but you lost a lot of blood. Eat, it will do you good. You will most likely seek to escape – I urge you not to bother. This house was built to hold people. In the unlikely event that you do free yourself, be warned that I will hunt you. I have your scent. There is nowhere on this earth you can hide. I will awaken sometime after nightfall._

Junkrat glowered at the note to cover up the unease brewing in his gut. What the hell did she mean, she had his ‘scent’? And she’d _hunt_ him? How? He turned his attention to the food then, eyeing the juice suspiciously. He’d bet fifty bucks it was poisoned, and wondered just how she expected him to drink with no hands, and then realised she’d helpfully provided a straw. Well… he was thirsty, _and_ dizzy. Orange juice was what they gave people for losing blood, wasn’t it? He sniffed the juice, then took the straw between his teeth and stirred it. With no immediate signs of contamination he took a small sip and held it in his mouth for some minutes. When there was no burning or tingling or numbness of his lips, Junkrat swallowed, then lay there for some time waiting to see if he died or not. When nothing happened, he eventually said ‘fuck it’ and drank.

The juice was deliciously cool and it went down a treat, though the sandwich was harder. With no hands available to him he just had to lie on his stomach and squash his face into the plate, eating like a dog. When he was full, he lay back and glanced at the clock again. _2:59 pm_. The note said she’d wake up after dark… so the clock probably was right after all. He shot the bed a confused look. What kind of weirdo slept during the day?

It occurred to him that now was the perfect chance to examine her, while she was sleeping, and so Junkrat rolled to his knees and peered at her curiously. She was a fairly tall woman, though not so tall as him, and she looked very peaceful, asleep on her side with one hand pillowed beneath her cheek. Her other hand, he realised, was a prosthetic like his own. Unlike his own, however, hers was sleek and sophisticated looking, tipped with vicious metal talons. Her skin was dark and he stared at her face for a while, trying to place her ethnicity, and after a while ended up settling on Indian or something similar. South Asian, at the very least. Her hair was glossy and black and very long, sweeping all the way down her back. She had the sheet tucked over her so he couldn’t see what she was wearing, but what he could see wasn’t overly helpful.

“Oi.” He said, then tried again when he got no reaction. He went from quiet to medium to loud, and when she didn’t even twitch after he’d graduated to full blown screaming while shaking the bed he sank down in disgust. No one had knocked on the door to see if he needed help, or even yelled at him to shut the fuck up, so maybe she’d bribed the hotel workers. Junkrat didn’t like the thought at all, and passed the time by reading and rereading her note, lying on the floor, trying to drag himself _and_ the bed towards his metal arm (he failed miserably), staring at her, and trying to bite his handcuff off. Nothing worked, and so he gave up and rested for a bit, watching the clock as it ticked slowly towards the sunset.

When the cannibal woman finally woke up he wasn’t prepared for it. He was playing with the cord to the floor lamp when he spotted movement out of the corner of his eye and sat up so fast his head swam. When his vision cleared, he realised the woman was sitting up in bed, gaze locked on him, and he spoke without thinking.

“Oi, what the fuck is this?” He demanded, yanking at the handcuff. “Who the fuck are ya? The hell y’doin’, chainin’ random blokes t’beds?”

She merely gazed at him. Her eyes, he noticed with a shiver of unease, were red. That was weird. He remembered her biting him and then a thought occurred to him that made a violent full body shiver crawl through him. “Oh _fuck_ – y’bit me! Y’given me some sorta disease? That’s fucked up-”

The woman continued to say nothing, but her gaze dropped from his face to his throat at his words, and the look on her face could only be described as hungry, and it made him feel decidedly uncomfortable.

“Y’gonna say somethin’ or what?” He demanded again, rattling his handcuff. “Y’could at least tell a bloke why y’ve gone an’ chained him up to a goddamned bed-”

“Your scent is sweeter than anything I’ve ever experienced.” She said, her voice a little hoarse, and Junkrat blinked. Whatever he’d been expecting, it hadn’t been _that_.

“Uh… okay. That’s fuckin’ weird, but okay.”

The woman lifted her gaze to his face again, and the intensity there made him shrink back a little.

“I suppose you want an explanation.” She said finally, and Junkrat nodded furiously.

“Y’damned fuckin’ roight I do! How ‘bout y’start by tellin’ me what the fuck _bitin’_ me’s all about, ‘cause last time I checked, bitin’ people’s a fucked up thing t’do. Y’some sorta cannibal?”

She sniffed. “A cannibal? Nothing so crass as _that_.” She got up out of the bed and moved to the mirror suspended over the counter, and smoothed her hair flat. “I am a vetala.” She said haughtily, turning to face him.

Junkrat blinked. “A… ve-whatsit?” He asked blankly, and she made an irritable noise.

“So uncultured. A _vetala_. A vampire, if you must.”

“What.” He said flatly. “Y’ve lost the fuckin’ plot, lady. Vampires aren’t real.”

She smiled at him then, a truly unnerving one that showed off her teeth – her _fangs_. They crowded her mouth and looked truly terrifying, but Junkrat swallowed hard and refused to believe it.

“So yer teeth are all jacked up.” He said shortly. “So what? Proves nuthin’ at all. Y’got an insane dentist or y’filed ‘em down yerself.”

She frowned at him. “Very well.”

Junkrat watched warily as she went to a decorative couch sitting against one wall, then sat down. For a moment, nothing happened, and then – she _died_. Junkrat blinked and looked again, but there was nothing else to describe it. One minute she was healthy, glowing, full of life, and the next minute she sagged, eyes staring unseeingly as her skin withered and tightened, hair shrivelling as she began to rot. Junkrat’s jaw dropped and he stared, then became aware of another presence in the little motel room. In another moment, the presence vanished and the woman sat up, the signs of death rapidly reversing. Her hair flowed straight and glossy once more, her skin turned plump and fresh, and she eyed him amusedly as he spluttered.

“How – how-”

“I told you. I am a vetala.”

Junkrat pulled himself together. “Aight, but what the _fuck_ am I doin’ here?”

Her expression changed, a hint of the hunger returning. “Your scent. I have never come across another like you.” She said softly, and he frowned.

“Scent – scent of _what_?”

“Your blood, of course.” She crossed her legs and studied him with interest. “The others of my kind – there are stories, of humans who taste impossibly sweet. I had never found one, before today.”

“My _blood_.” Junkrat said slowly, piecing things together. “Roight. Okay. Y’bit me. Y’ _weren’t_ eatin’ me-”

“I was not.” She confirmed. “I would, however, have drained you to a shrivelled husk if I had any less self-control.”

Junkrat shivered involuntarily. “Oh.” He said softly. “Roight. Okay.” Wanting to distract the both of them from the topics of blood and also drinking blood (mainly he wanted to distract _her_ , because she was looking at him hungrily in a way he Did Not Like), he changed the subject. “So. Uh. Y’just… fuckin’ died?”

The corner of her lips ticked up. “I vacated this corpse.”

He raised his brows, narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips. “That’s…. not your… body?”

“It is now.” She smoothed her hands over her thighs. “I’ve had it long enough.”

Junkrat decided not to think too hard about that, and rattled his handcuff. “So. What’s the go?” He asked tersely.

She raised a brow. “The go?”

He rattled the handcuff again. “This? What’s happenin’ with this? Y’got some sort of plan?”

She stared at him, deadpan. “I plan on keeping you alive.”

“That’s nice.” Junkrat said scornfully. “Coulda done that by leavin’ me the _fuck_ alone.”

She merely looked at him, and the reality was beginning to sink in.

“Y-you’re not lettin’ me go, are ya?”

“It would be the mistake of my life to let blood like yours slip through my fingers.” She said softly, and he scowled, went to protest, then thought of something that made his blood run cold.

“You… gonna… bite me again?” He squinted at her nervously, and she frowned.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Her tone was peevish, and he frowned.

“Like what?”

The woman got up and began to pace, shooting him dirty looks every so often. After a while, she spoke.

“I never do this. Others of my kind, they take bloodslaves, but I do not care for the practice.”

Junkrat nearly choked. “ _Bloodslaves!?”_ He yelped, and she nodded.

“Yes, humans kept for the explicit purpose of giving blood. Convenient if you have a favoured home, but _I_ prefer the hunt.” She turned and frowned at him. “I’ve never _done_ this. I’ve never spoken to my meals.”

Junkrat squinted at her. “Guilty conscience?”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course not. It’s just a little unnerving. You eat meat?” She motioned at the remains of his sandwich. “Imagine having to hold a conversation with a chicken before you ate it.”

That _would_ be weird, he could give her that much. “Yeah, but I’m a person, _not_ a beast.” He argued. “There’s a difference.”

“No difference at all.” She sounded so _dismissive_ and he ground his teeth to cover up the panic brewing in his guts.

“So… y’are or y’aren’t?” He asked, and she frowned.

“I have brought you here for that purpose.”

Junkrat panicked. He started to thrash, yanking desperately at the handcuff until it cut into his wrist, and he only realised he’d made a mistake when blood beaded and he heard her audible intake of breath. Glancing worriedly up, he took in her nails digging into the arm of the couch hard enough to puncture the leather, her clenched jaw and eyes locked firmly on his wrist, and with a sinking feeling in his gut, he realised he’d just whipped out his own fresh blood in front of a vampire. Yeah, he was fuckin’ moron.

He frantically rubbed at the wound, smearing blood over himself in the process, until it stopped bleeding. Thankfully, it had been a shallow cut, more of a scrape, but it was apparently enough to turn her to stone. He watched her nervously for a good couple of minutes before she finally moved, her eyes slipping slowly shut as she finally breathed again.

“It would be wise if you did not do that again.” She said softly, opening her eyes again. Her pupils, he noticed, had narrowed to pinpricks. “I wasn’t being fictitious when I said your blood is… alluring. Your scent tempts me like no other. I do not think you realise just how hard it is to restrain myself.”

Junkrat swallowed hard. “Uh… roight. Why is that? The uh, the temptin’ thing, I mean. Why’s my blood… different?”

She tilted her head. “I do not know. Others of my kind have many different theories.” She left it at that, and Junkrat pursed his lips.

“Aight.” He couldn’t get out of his handcuff… not unless she released him or he got his metal arm back, so he figured… for now… he’d play along. “So what now?”

“You stay here.” She frowned. “I will need to make arrangements… this house isn’t suitable for human habitation… and we cannot stay here forever. I supposed I shall have to find somewhere permanent after all. It will need to be someplace fit for humans. I have seen the pitiful conditions other bloodslaves are kept in and I don’t care for it-”

Junkrat frowned. “House? This is a house?” He asked stupidly, looking around. “Thought it was a hotel or somethin’. Pretty flash for a house.”

The corner of her mouth ticked up.

“An’ whadaya _mean_ , not fit for human habitation?” He looked about again, wondering what the hell she was on about. “Looks fine t’me.”

The curve of her lips grew more pronounced. “This house is furnished well enough, but there is no food. I have no need of it… but you do.”

Junkrat frowned harder. He did _not_ like the way she seemed to be so certain that his stay would be infinite.

“I _guess_.” He mumbled, and she nodded in a business-like way.

“I never planned to stay here for long. Already my meals have caught the attention of the media. We can stay for a month or two, possibly, but then we ought to move on.”

“To where?” He asked peevishly, and she shrugged one elegant shoulder.

“I’m not sure yet. As I said, it will need to be suitable for bloodslaves, and-”

“Y’have t’say it like that?” He interrupted, and she frowned.

“Like what?”

“Bloodslave.” He muttered. “Sounds... nasty.”

“Well, I can hardly call you anything else. We have not been introduced.”

“Whose fault’s that?” Junkrat snapped, incensed. “Hard t’introduce y’self when y’up against a wall getting’ y’damn soul sucked out through y’neck!”

“Nonsense. Your soul remains intact.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Whatever. M’name’s Junkrat.”

The woman dipped her chin somewhat incredulously. “…Junkrat.”

“ _Yeah_. Got a problem with it?”

“It sounds as though a child came up with it.” She said dismissively, and crossed her legs while he fumed. “In any case, you may call me Symmetra.”

“Symmetra? Doesn’t sound too… Indian. Y’are, yeah? Y’look it.”

She gave him a narrow look. “Just because someone has a certain ethnicity doesn’t necessarily mean their name will reflect that.” Symmetra paused. “However, you are correct. I was reborn in India. Furthermore, Symmetra is not my birth name. It is, however, the name you may address me as.”

… _Reborn_. Junkrat decided he wasn’t gonna touch _that_ with a ten-foot pole, and decided simply to agree. “Roight.” Junkrat slumped against the bed and closed his eyes, and then her voice came again, laced with concern.

“Do you feel unwell? You need more juice, I will get you more juice-”

Junkrat opened one eye to find her moving towards the door.

“‘M fine.” He said irritably. “Just tryin’ t’wrap m’head ‘round what’s happenin’.”

Symmetra paused and turned to face him, her expression uncertain. “Very well.” She said after a long moment. “I won’t get you juice.”

“What d’ya care for anyway?” He snapped, and her brows furrowed.

“I told you. Your blood. I cannot let you go.”

He was beginning to feel hopeless. “Juice’d be good, actually.” He mumbled. Maybe it’d get him out of this clusterfuck of a conversation.

Symmetra eyed him for a long moment, then disappeared out the door. Junkrat took the opportunity to wrestle furiously with his handcuff. Nothing happened – it was a pretty decent contraption, and despite all his twisting, writhing, pulling and bashing, he couldn’t get the fucking thing open, nor pull his hand loose. In the end, he gave up and lay there seething until she came back. Symmetra came back with a tall glass of juice, which she placed beside him on the floor.

She pursed her lips. “I suppose…” She said reluctantly, then produced a tiny key from her pocket. Junkrat watched as she stopped breathing entirely, and he leaned away as she leaned in, and unlocked the cuff. He immediately shot backwards to his feet, plastering himself up against the wall, and Satya moved backwards to the centre of the room. Junkrat eyed the door, wondering where she’d put his things and how long it would take him to find them.

 “Drink.” She said, sitting down neatly on the couch, and Junkrat scowled to himself before sinking to the floor and grabbing his drink to scoot back to the wall, as far away from her as he could. He decided it was best to humour her – the sooner she became relaxed and complacent, the sooner he could pull the wool over her eyes and get the fuck out, and so he drank quickly, sculling the juice without really tasting it. When he was done, he shoved the glass away from him and glared balefully at her.

Unfortunately for him, he didn’t do well with silence. Junkrat had to move, _had_ to fidget, and if he couldn’t do that he talked, to himself or to other people or _at_ other people, depending on if they’d listen or not, and the way Symmetra just sat there, her contemplative gaze on him, was gonna drive him _nuts_ sooner than later.

Finally, when he couldn’t control himself any longer, he snapped. “What’s with this ‘bloodslave’ shit?” He burst out. “Others like you or whatever, they keep _actual_ slaves?”

Symmetra furrowed her brow. “They aren’t forced to carry out menial tasks.” She said, as though that was supposed to reassure him. “They’re simply a food source.” The furrow between her brows deepened. “You don’t like the title… would you prefer to be called something else?”

“ _Yes_.” Junkrat said emphatically, deliberately choosing not to inform her that he didn’t want any title, thank you very much, and that he intended on blowing her up and escaping very soon. He was simply playing along, letting her _think_ she’d won.

“Feeder? Or bloodbag?” She suggested with a smile. “Some call their humans ‘cattle’.”

Junkrat wrinkled his nose. “None’ya got any taste.” He complained, and her smile broadened.

“I could call you ‘bloodwhore’, if you preferred.” She offered.

“I do _not_ prefer, thanks.” Junkrat said tightly.

“Then what would you prefer?”

“Junkrat. M’name’s Junkrat. Call me Junkrat.” She didn’t want to ‘talk’ to her meal? Hah, have fun trying to feed from him once she’d humanised him some more. Or vampirised? Become an equal in her eyes, at any rate.

Symmetra pursed her lips and looked displeased, and he silently cheered to himself.

She didn’t answer him, so Junkrat chalked it up as a victory and nestled against the far wall, plotting routes and tactics and trying to figure out the best way to get to his things. He rubbed his stump anxiously – it made him feel nervous to be without both hands.

“Hey.” He said abruptly, causing her to raise startled eyes to his face. “Can I’ve m’arm back? Don’t like being without it. Y’got a fake arm… y’know what it’s like.”

Her face softened just the tiniest bit as she brushed her fingers over her own prosthetic. “I do know. I am sorry for taking it; I just didn’t want you escaping while I slept.”

He laughed a nervous laugh and lied through his teeth. “Roight. Well, we both know that ain’t gonna happen so… can I’ve it back?”

Symmetra contemplated him for a long moment, then stood and made her way over to the table upon which his arm was resting. Her expression was wary, and Junkrat took very great care to hold himself as still as possible, and not stop her from giving his arm back. She laid the mechanical limb on her bed and went back to her couch, and Junkrat scrambled forwards, snatched his arm, and retreated to the wall. The instant he had it on, all his straps tightened and neuroboards firing, and he flexed his metal fingers, he felt complete again, and he relaxed somewhat.

Glancing up, he realised she was just… _staring_ at him, and he bristled.

“Y’gonna do that all night? Just fuckin’ stare? It’s creepy, that’s what it is.”

Symmetra didn’t even bother to answer, she just got up and walked out the door. Junkrat waited for a few minutes, but she didn’t come back, and his curiosity was overwhelming. He crept to the door and peered out, and found a hallway with lots of other doors. He set about exploring – he didn’t find his explosives, but he found guest bedrooms and bathrooms and an office, and then he found a set of stairs. He crept down them carefully, but reasoned if she’d wanted to keep him in that room she’d have left him cuffed to the bed, or at the very least have shut the door. Downstairs revealed the swankiest, flashiest living room he’d ever been in, and a fancy kitchen lay at the other end. He found Symmetra sitting with a shining laptop at the evidently unused dining table, and he stared at her cautiously. She ignored him completely, and so he continued on with his explorations, thoroughly investigating every potential exit, only to be disappointed each time. She had an incredible security system – even after a little tampering, a little poking and prodding, it was immediately obvious to him that he wasn’t going to get out through the windows without a very loud alarm and a whole lot of hurt. The glass was nigh on indestructible – he’d scampered upstairs and hurled a metal chair at a window, and then a coffee table, and then himself, but he hadn’t even put a scratch on the bloody thing. He had, however, dislocated his shoulder.

Junkrat sat on the floor, clutching his arm and moaning in pain. Where the fuck was Hoggie when you needed him? Had the big lug even woken up? Junkrat had the sudden thought of Roadie wandering the streets, searching for him in vain, and his stomach clenched painfully. He might not ever see Hog again. He moved too much and jostled his shoulder – Junkrat whimpered in pain and then froze as Symmetra appeared in the doorway. Her eyes flickered across the room, taking in the broken chair and the shattered coffee table lying at the base of the window, and roamed over him, coming to rest on his horribly distorted arm.

“You have injured yourself.” She stated the obvious and Junkrat snorted.

“No fuckin’ shit.” He mumbled. Right, he was gonna have to pop his arm back into joint… how did you do that, again? He’d dislocated his arm before, but Hog had put it back into joint. By now sweating and mildly dizzy, he barely noticed Symmetra moving towards him.

“Come with me.” She said. “I will help you.”

Junkrat eyed her for a moment, and then the pain made his decision for him and he got to his feet, stumbling a little as he followed her downstairs. Symmetra installed him on a dining room chair and then made him sit, clutching in arm and whimpering pathetically, as she looked up how to put an arm back into joint. Once she’d read enough, she stopped breathing, clenched her jaw tight enough he could see a muscle ticking there, and came over to take hold of his arm, making him blanch. Her touch was gentle and surprisingly cool, like sitting on a stone bench in the shade. She carefully manoeuvred his arm into the correct position, making beads of sweat pop out on his face.

“Ready?” She asked, and he nodded grimly. Best to get it the fuck over with.

Symmetra gave him no further caution, she simply gripped his arm and heaved, and with a sickening jerk everything slid back into place. Junkrat yelped and then relaxed in surprise, for the pain had all but gone. Still adhering to whatever medical things she’d been reading, Symmetra went to the kitchen and got him ice, and sacrificed a bath towel to make a sling. Ministrations complete, she crossed to the other side of the room, her hands curled tight into fists at her side as she let herself breath again. Junkrat watched her with some curiosity; he was only really beginning to appreciate how hard it was for her to be near him. He then wondered just what his blood smelt like, and why that meant it smelt better than other blood, but decided against bringing it up.

“So, uh…” He began somewhat awkwardly. “Thanks, I guess.”

Symmetra simply nodded, her jaw clenched tight. He noticed her pupils were pinpricks again, and decided to scarper.

“I’m gonna – go.” He scuttled back upstairs, retreating to the room she’d handcuffed him in, and sat on the couch to prod at his shoulder, which hurt, so he did it some more. Junkrat sat there for some time, contemplating the mess he’d gotten himself into, what Roadhog might be doing right now, and how he was going to get out of her. The fact that she’d helped him with his arm confused him, and he sat there brooding for a while, until he got bored and went downstairs again.

He found Symmetra more or less where he’d left her – still in the dining area, sitting at her laptop once more. Junkrat crouched behind a couch and watched her surreptitiously (or so he thought), until his Junker urges got the better of him and he began to contemplate her laptop. He was now officially fuckin’ interested – he was a Junker and Junkers _loved_ shiny tech. He was damn near salivating over the thought of stealing her laptop and ripping it to shreds… or would he get a better price if he left it whole?

She ignored him completely as she typed, and his gaze fell from the laptop to the window and the tantalising glimpse of freedom it provided, and Junkrat began to wonder exactly how he was gonna pull this off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> poor jamie, it hasn't quite sunk in yet 
> 
> still have no excuse for this lmao 
> 
> in the next chapter, jamie's gonna have a time of it


	3. Contained

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junkrat settles in to life with a vampire

The young man was plotting. Satya eyed him amusedly as he mouthed things to himself, drawing plans on the carpet with his fingers and generally being so utterly obvious she didn’t know how he had managed to delude himself into thinking that she hadn’t noticed what he was doing. Satya frowned slightly at her online shopping – she needed to feed him… she’d been consulting nutrition charts and working out what was best for his diet considering he’d be giving blood on a regular basis. She pursed her lips and considered her location… this home was rented, as all her homes were. Once upon a time only money had been required to secure safe lodgings but as the centuries ticked by and the world modernised, suddenly bank accounts and formal paperwork became required… and humans would of course be suspicious of people trying to rent with no apparent dates of birth. So there had sprung up in the immortal word a furious trade in fake identities and counterfeit papers, all run by an international council who provided needy immortals with the paperwork required, which was how Satya had acquired her most recent home. Of course, she couldn’t stay here for long, just as she never stayed anywhere for long. A few months was her limit, for mortals became suspicious easily, and when one did not rely on bloodslaves, it meant the corpses piled up and serial killer rumours abounded, and so she kept on the move, relying on the council to furnish her with passports and papers whenever she packed up once more. She would need to leave this house eventually, but she couldn’t just _go_ , for now she had to wrangle her new young man… Junkrat, as he called himself. What an absurd name.

She had not _planned_ to stay in this city for so long. Satya had created a routine that had served her for a very long time – find a place secured against potential slayers, feed, then take herself on. So she moved on, to another country and another city, always on the lookout for a new place to hunt, new victims to choose.

That was how she’d come across this one… Satya avoided looking down at him, as the mere thought of his blood caused venom to flood her mouth. She pursed her lips in irritation and continued searching for groceries. She was aiming for a decently large amount, that would limit the number of deliveries to the house, which would of course limit the amount of times Junkrat could attempt escape.

Always pragmatic and with no reason to delay, Satya narrowed down her list and ordered, then went to check the kitchen for bugs in the cupboards she had no reason to open, and to turn on the fridge that she hadn’t used. All the while Junkrat remained on the floor, inching closer to her laptop bit by bit. It was obvious that he wanted it, though she wasn’t sure why – perhaps he was planning to contact someone for help? – it amused her to watch him try, and so as he drew a little closer, she turned her back on him.

There instantly came the sound of him rushing across the floor and Satya whirled, flying through the room to kick his knee out from under him and plant her foot directly on his back as he landed and crush him to the floor with a choked wheeze of air from his lungs. She then remembered his recently dislocated arm and instantly removed her foot, leaning down then to slip her fingers into his hair and pull until he had peeled himself up off the floor, glaring at her and making a high-pitched whimpering sound as he clutched his shoulder. She released him and flicked her fingers dismissively and watched as he scuttled back over to the far side of the room, his expression furious, and Satya continued her careful inspection of the kitchen. When she was satisfied, she went back into the living room to find him poking at the back of her tv.

“I have ordered groceries.” Satya said abruptly.

“Groceries?” His expression was calculating.

“That’s right.” Satya said curtly, and pulled out her laptop again.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t wish you to starve.”

“Why?”

“Because I wish to keep you.”

“Why?”

She eyed him in irritation. “Because I _intend_ to keep you.”

“Here?”

“Yes, for now.”

Junkrat frowned. “For now?”

“We cannot stay here forever. I will find another house, and-”

He eyed her curiously. “Y’just gonna up and buy a house, just like that? How fuckin’ loaded are ya!?”

Satya narrowed her eyes at him. “My personal finances are of no concern to you.”

Junkrat scoffed and mumbled something unintelligible, which was quite a feat, considering her supernatural hearing. She ignored him for while as she checked her emails, wondering if she ought to contact the council now and inform them that she had acquired a bloodslave, and to request fake papers for him. After all, they would need to travel eventually.

“Where’s the new place gonna be?” He asked, rubbing at his shoulder absently, and Satya shrugged.

“America, mostly likely.”

_“America?”_

“Yes, I’ve not been there in three decades at least. Long enough for any rumours of serial killers to die down.”

He squinted at her. “…Serial killers.”

Satya sighed. “Multiple corpses, spread over a particular area, all killed the same way. You tell me, what does that look like?”

He sounded intrigued despite himself. “That mean all serial killers are actually vamps in disguise?”

“Of course not.” Satya narrowed her eyes at him. “Humans like to kill other humans. They do it often. And I am a vetala, thank you.”

“Vetala, vampire, what’s the difference?” He sounded dismissive and Satya did _not_ like it. “An’ how y’reckon y’gonna get me on a plane, anyway? I’m gonna yell m’fuckin’ head off soon as I see people.”

Satya smiled at him briefly. “Not when I’m through with you.”

Junkrat looked thoroughly unnerved, and chose to pretend to look out the window. Satya appreciated his silence, because it enabled her to think.

Having him here was an inconvenience that she had never imagined, yet at the same time it felt so incredibly good. With every breath his intoxicating scent hit her and left her feeling warm inside, like a weaker effect of drinking blood. She could see how others found it so difficult to abstain from feeding on a human whose scent was so very appealing, sometimes even to the point of inadvertently revealing their true nature to other humans. This always caused an uproar, for with mortal fear came an influx of slayers, and the last things immortals needed were vampire hunters on their tails. Satya, always careful, had not been pursued by a slayer in a very long time, but now with a human weighing her down, her nomadic lifestyle may not be the safest anymore. It might be worth looking into a permanent residence provided by the council, one with housing for her bloodslaves built in and the highest security systems protecting the grounds from any would-be intruders…

Well, she had time to think about it. She remained very full from last night, having drained one person before stumbling upon Junkrat, and so Satya wouldn’t need to feed for another fortnight at the very least. No, she could spend her days training herself in order to become acclimated to the scent of him – the temptation to fling herself at him and sink her teeth into his throat grew almost overpoweringly strong the closer she got to him, and if she intended to feed from him and restrain herself from draining him entirely, then she needed to work hard on familiarising herself with the scent of him.

 

* * *

 

Junkrat found that the days passed _miserably_ slowly. He had exhausted every method he could possibly think of to escape, and had broken quite a bit of Symmetra’s furniture in an effort to smash windows – or so he told her. In truth, only half the shit he’d ruined had been in an escape plot – the rest he’d broken because he wanted to inconvenience her. He didn’t seem to be able to – the biggest rise he’d yet gotten out of her was a slight furrowing of that otherwise smooth brow – she would look mildly annoyed but the expression was more exasperated, as though he were a mere child in her presence. It irked him.

He sat up in his bed – initially, he had kind of expected that she would make him sleep on the floor where he had woken up, chained to her bed by handcuffs, but no. Apparently, that had just been a precaution for when he had woken before she had a chance to inform him of what was happening. Junkrat had been kicked out of her room, but supplied with a room of his own just down the hall. It was, if he wanted to be truthful, the best accommodation he’d ever had in his life. The bed was incredible, with the biggest mattress he’d ever seen swathed in snowy white bedding, and his sheets felt like silk against his skin while the mattress itself was plush and luxuriously soft – it seemed that luxury was the name of the game so far as Symmetra was concerned. Everything was expensive, even the things that she, as a vampire, had no use for – such as the fridge. It was fancy as hell, with a wine, water and ice dispenser, and the ability to tell you when to throw certain foods out. It certainly beat the plain white boxes Junkertown fridges had been.

It was a little strange, but so far, Symmetra seemed to be… _spoiling_ him. Junkrat had noticed a pattern. If he twitched and complained about his lack of something or other, so long as he couldn’t use it to escape, Symmetra would be seen on her laptop at some point and then a few days later, the item would be delivered. He now had the most enormous tv in his room, along with countless games and movies and three (three!!!) consoles. She’d found him one day ripping a clock to shreds to get at the insides – Junkrat was used to constantly building, and while the games were fun, they couldn’t replace the satisfaction of crafting new explosives – and the very next day an enormous box had arrived, stuffed to the brim with parts. It was more robotics than explosives, and it certainly couldn’t be labelled as scrap, but Junkrat now had a corner of his room in which to build things and be content – or as content as he could be without the ability to blow stuff up.

The only thing that bummed him out about his eventual escape was that he’d have to leave all his new things behind… Junkrat had been forced to edit his fantasies severely, to include him and Roadhog coming back to loot the place before scarpering…

At the thought of Roadie his mood dropped severely. Where was his friend now? What was he doing? Was he still looking for him? Or had he given up? Junkrat stopped what he was doing to frown and will away the unease in his gut. What would he do if Roadie _had_ given up? How would he find him again?

His spirits lifted as he realised all he had to do was escape, then cause a horrific explosion, possibly at a bank… while _robbing_ the bank… then evade the police and sit back and wait for Hog to return, lured by the news reports. It was a sound plan, and it was a cheerful Junkrat who went downstairs looking for something to eat, since he’d forgotten about breakfast. Well, breakfast was a sort of arbitrary term – it was nearly midnight, since he’d become adapted to Symmetra’s hours. She slept in the daytime and woke at night, and he’d found it was far easier to adapt rather than worry about trying to sleep with a vampire prowling about at night. It was hard to sleep in the daytime, but once he’d voiced that problem, Symmetra had provided him with an eye mask and new blackout curtains for his windows, which went a long way towards fixing the problem.

He found Symmetra sitting on the spotless white couch watching the news, and he hummed to himself as he meandered towards the kitchen. It had been a few weeks since she’d originally snatched him off the streets, and since she hadn’t made a single move to harm him in any way, his fear of her had rapidly faded. She held her breath when he got too close and Junkrat liked to torture her – if she was going to abduct him and hold him captive in her home, then hell _yeah_ he was gonna rub his apparently very smelly scent in her face as much as he could – it would serve her right. Of course, if Junkrat had been able to understand just how much his proximity tempted her to rip his throat out, he probably wouldn’t have done it as much.

Opening the fridge, Junkrat hummed as he scanned the items, wondering for the millionth time just how loaded she was. She never seemed bat an eyelid at the price of anything, and he’d even taken to making very expensive requests – which were _granted_. He’d been kidnapped before, and he sure as shit hadn’t been treated as well as _this_. Symmetra had given him a whole diet plan to follow, and though at first he’d been wary as hell when she’d informed him the foods she was stocking the kitchen with would ensure his body could recover quickly and efficiently after losing blood, she hadn’t actually made a move to drink his blood again, so Junkrat was left with a kitchen well stocked with admittedly delicious, organic, _expensive_ goods.

He pulled some fancy but delicious artisanal crackers out of the cupboard and paired them with imported Italian olives and a cheese he couldn’t pronounce, and took his plate to Symmetra’s couch, enjoying the way she stiffened with discomfort when he approached.

“What’s on?” He asked around a mouthful of cheese, and stifled a giggle when she squared her shoulders before replying.

“There’s been a train derailment in Madrid.”

“Oh yeah?” Junkrat peered at the telly to see video of a horribly mangled looking train surrounded by fire crews and emergency services. “Shit. That a passenger train?”

“Yes. They’ve put the fire out and are starting to remove the bodies.”

“Poor bastards.” Junkrat dropped an olive and scowled ferociously as it rolled out of reach, then gave it up as a lost cause and plucked another from his plate. He turned to face Symmetra, intending to continue the conversation, but lost his train of thought as he caught sight of her properly. He hadn’t really noticed it before now but she seemed to be changing very subtly as the days passed, but now it was quite visible. Her hair seemed to be drier, less lustrous and without a hint of gloss, and her skin wasn’t quite so plump – she had the drawn, tight features of a drug addict, and her eyes seemed a little sunken. He frowned, studying her intently, and she turned to face him with the kind of expression that told him she knew exactly what he was thinking.

“I look terrible, I know.” She said, sounding rather unimpressed. “This is what happens to a vetala when we neglect to feed.”

Junkrat froze at the mention of feeding. “Ah.” He eked out. “Um… so…”

“I will need to feed, and shortly.” Even her voice seemed rougher, as though blood lubricated her throat or something, and Junkrat was hit with the absurd urge to giggle at the thought. He quashed the urge with some difficulty and settled for staring, wide-eyed, at the vampire sitting at the other end of the couch.

“Ummmm…”

She looked mildly amused at his reaction. “I will not take my nourishment solely from you. I – it isn’t safe. I wouldn’t want to get carried away and drain you entirely.”

Junkrat blinked. “Uh… thanks.”

Symmetra nodded to herself and stood. “I will hunt tonight, I think.” She studied her nails, and Junkrat saw that the skin was pulled tight around her nail-beds, making her hand look creepy and very unhealthy. “It will become… unsafe… if I leave it any longer.” She murmured, before turning to face him. “I will be gone for some hours, and when I return…” Junkrat shivered at the truly unnerving smile she gave him. “Consider yourself dessert.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jamie's in for a time in the next chapter lmao


	4. Glutted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junkrat finds out exactly what it is to be a vampire's bloodbag~

Satya gorged herself that night.

She wanted to take no chances, none at all, and so she took the easy way out by targeting two drunks she found rolling home. She typically avoided obvious drug addicts and alcoholics because of the way it tainted the flavour of the blood, leaving an unpleasant aftertaste in her mouth that took days to get rid of, but tonight she had a palette cleanser in the form of Junkrat… her mouth flooded with venom at the thought. The men were college-aged and not at all difficult to herd into a narrow alleyway, where she pulled them behind a dumpster and snapped their necks before settling down to feed. They were very drunk and while she didn’t care for how they tasted, blood was blood and Satya drained as much as she could from them, and when she could drink no more she gathered the corpses and threw them over her shoulder and carried them over the rooftops to a nearby canal. Having watched the two corpses sink under the water and disappear from view, she set off home, feeling decidedly sloshy and full.

She reached her house and breathed deeply, nostrils flaring as she sought to work out where exactly Junkrat was – he was upstairs, which was good. He wasn’t lurking behind the door, attempting an escape. Satya punched in the numbers on the security pad and waited as her door unlocked, before she entered and locked the place up securely behind her. Then, like a compass needle to true north, she drifted up the stairs in search of her prey. She found him in his room, huddled in his bed playing a game on his console, but when she opened the door he jumped and forgot all about the characters on the screen. He dropped the controller and scurried backwards, pressing himself against the headboard with eyes the size of saucers.

Satya still felt glutted, but the journey back had eased her discomfit, and she opened her mouth to reveal venom dripping from her fangs as she moved forwards, climbing onto the bed.

“H-hang on.” Junkrat stuttered. “Y’just gonna – no, wait-”

“Relax.” She murmured, reaching for him. He tried to pull away but her grip was inescapable and she drew him close, letting her hands rest on the sides of his neck. His pulse thrummed beneath her touch and the scent of him filled her nose, making her feel dizzy. Satya closed her eyes and leaned in, holding him firmly as he tried to squirm away.

“No! _no no no_ -” His fingers tangled in her hair and pulled her back and Satya, by now thoroughly entranced by the scent of his throat, snarled and pulled his hands free of her, and toppled them both onto the bed. She had him pinned beneath her as she straddled him, his wrists pinned above his head. “Wait!” He cried out, writhing beneath her. “Christ, _stop_ -”

“Don’t _move_.” Satya growled, and he whimpered in fear.

“Dunno how’m ‘sposed t’do that when you’re about t’take a bloody great chunk outta m’neck!” he cried out, and Satya paused, attempting to filter rational thought through the hunger clouding her mind.

“It won’t hurt.” She murmured, letting her tongue slide over the warm flesh of him, salty sweet and so incredibly delicious.

Junkrat snorted loudly, distracting her a little. “Pull the other one.” He snapped, attempting to wrestle his wrists from her grip. “Dunno if y’noticed, but I was there last time y’bit me!”

“That’s different.” Satya restrained herself with immense difficulty and pulled back enough that she could see his eyes. “I hadn’t fed properly, I lost control. I _am_ in control of myself now. Besides… you will enjoy it.”

Junkrat’s eyed widened, then narrowed. “ _Enjoy_ it-”

“You’ll see.” She bent to nuzzle at his flesh again, venom dripping from her fangs to slide over his skin. “There’s a reason bloodslaves would do _anything_ for us.”

He tensed beneath her as she opened her mouth, struggling to keep her motions slow and gentle as she bit down, her fangs piercing a vein. Junkrat jerked beneath her with a panicked whine, but as her venom penetrated his bloodstream he relaxed, his hands going limp in her grasp, and by the time she fastened her mouth to the wound and took a slow pull, he was high on her venom, his pupils dilated and a low moan in his throat. Satya suckled gently, her whole being focused on the slide of blood over her tongue – he tasted divine, utterly sublime. If she had known blood like this existed, she’d have searched the world for him. Still, she had him now, and he was _hers –_ she couldn’t let him go.

The world seemed to spin around her and Satya dizzily realised she was becoming drunk on his blood – it was rare for her to be affected so, and the elixir to be found within the veins of this one young man was turning out to be something very special indeed. Junkrat had all but passed out, his body limp beneath hers, so Satya let herself indulge in one more greedy mouthful, then, the almost painful feeling of having drunk too much encroaching upon her blissful headspace, she swept her venom coated tongue across the wound to seal it with the greatest reluctance; her whole being screamed at her to keep drinking, to drain him to a husk, despite how bloated she felt. She forced herself to sit up and eyed him groggily, pressing one hand to her stomach. She felt both revitalised and very sick – clearly, she’d overindulged tonight. Satya watched the rise and fall of Junkrat’s chest until she’d satisfied herself that he wasn’t about to expire from blood loss, thoroughly unable to contemplate moving while she felt as though she were an overfilled wineskin fit to burst, let alone cleansing herself of the blood she could feel beginning to dry around her mouth and on her clothes, (despite how much she loathed making a mess when she fed). Unable to consider anything more as the approaching dawn mingled with her sated thirst and turned her body to lead, Satya curled up amongst the snowy bedding spotted with blood, and fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

Junkrat awoke to a dry mouth and a sore neck. He lay there for a long few moments, staring at the ceiling as he got his befuddled thoughts in order. He eventually decided he would go and get a glass of water to rinse the cottony taste from his mouth before he attempted to revisit the events of yesterday, and rolled over only to freeze at the sight of a vampire scarcely an inch from his nose. Junkrat barely stifled his shocked yelp, but it hardly mattered – Symmetra was sound asleep, dried blood still crusted around her mouth. Junkrat eyed her curiously, noting the blood on her mouth, her clothes, the bed, and carefully scooted away, and headed to his bathroom. Symmetra had her own en-suite, so the main bathroom was all his, and he took advantage of that to scurry in and lock the door before he leant against the sink, studying his neck in the mirror. His memories of her feeding on him were becoming clearer as his mind emptied of the fog of sleep, and Junkrat frowned to himself, running his fingers over the wound.

She had been _right_ , dammit – it hadn’t hurt. Beyond the initial slice of her fangs into his flesh, he’d barely felt a thing, and that had scarcely been worse than a flu shot. It wasn’t the messy, ravaged mess of a bite like the first time she’d fed from him – this bite was barely visible, just slight crimson pinpricks resting on his throat. She was right, apparently – if she kept in control of herself, it wasn’t so bad.

Junkrat took a washcloth and dampened it, and gingerly wiped himself clean of blood, and deciding it would be best not to tempt her further, he hunted about in various cupboards until he found some bleach-based shower cleaner. It stung like hell but he smeared it liberally over himself, hoping the strong smell would cover the scent of blood and not tempt her to bite him again soon.

He sat on the edge of the bathtub, brow furrowed, and considered what else she’d said. _You will enjoy it,_ she’d said – Junkrat had thought she was completely off her rocker but then her fangs had sunk into his flesh and she was right, he _had_. He wasn’t entirely sure how to describe how it had felt. Junkrat was no stranger to vices – in Junkertown, the desire to escape reality had created more than a few addicts – but he had never experienced a high like this. He didn’t recall if he’d felt anything similar during her first feed, but knowing that she’d more or less knocked him the fuck out led him to believe that while being _violently_ fed on by a vampire was fucking awful, something gentler was – different. With her bite had come a rush of pleasure strong enough to shock him, and with the gentle pull of blood a sense of intense euphoria had rushed through him hard enough to make his eyes roll back in his head. He’d not continued to struggle because nothing on this earth could have convinced him to make her stop, so long as she kept her mouth at his neck and that indescribable feeling… Junkrat furrowed his brow, for he recognised in himself a kind of desire… he wanted to feel it again.

He wanted her to feed from him… again.

 

* * *

 

Satya slept for a long time – nearly twelve hours, but she woke feeling more rested than she had in a very long time. Waking up in Junkrat’s bed rather than her own gave her pause for a moment, but then she recalled falling asleep beside him, and got up to track him down. She found him in the kitchen crafting a very elaborate sandwich, and was relieved to find that he was suffering no ill effects – she hadn’t taken enough blood to harm him. He was a little pale, however, and she was pleased to find him eating and replenishing his strength, and told him so.

Junkrat’s eyes had flashed to hers, looking a little perturbed, and after some careful examination of him, she thought she realised what the problem might be.

Absently fiddling with the salt shaker, Satya tilted her head and phrased her question innocently. “I hope I didn’t hurt you too much.”

Again, his gaze flew to hers in a way that betrayed everything, before his eyes dropped back to the sandwich. “No.” He mumbled, and Satya nodded.

“I’m glad.” She looked out the window briefly, eying marks in the paint where he had thrown a barstool at the glass a few weeks ago, but failed to shatter it. The council had done very well when outfitting this house – no bloodslaves would escape from here. “I believe I explained that bloodslaves tend to… enjoy it.” Her eyes darted to his in time to catch the look of intense displeasure that crossed his features. Ah, so that was it – he _had_ enjoyed it, and was angry that he had.

Junkrat set the knife he was using down with a loud clatter. “Yeah, what’s the go with that?” He was obviously trying to cover up his discomfort with loud words and bluster, which seemed so entirely _human_ a trait that she almost smiled. “How the fuck does that work? Y’bit me! How the _fuck_ -” He trailed off into angry mumblings, and Satya put the salt shaker down.

“Two things.” She began, contemplating her answer. “The first is that I am venomous.” His head snapped up and she concealed a smile. “My venom fulfils one main role – it paralyses my prey. You may recall-” Satya continued delicately. “-that you stopped struggling after I bit you?”

Junkrat’s expression darkened.

“That was my venom.” She continued, amused by his reaction. “It isn’t a complete paralysis, mind you – you could move, it just that it removes your inclination to do so all together. The reason you may have felt high-” Junkrat’s eyes narrowed, and she half-smiled at his defensive expression. Oh, he’d most _definitely_ been high as a kite. “-is because of it. Think of it as an intoxicant.”

“…Venom?”

Satya nodded. “Venom.” She confirmed. “I produce it when feeding, as do all my kind. It makes bloodslaves docile and… eager to offer themselves up, shall we say.”

Junkrat whirled and strode to the sink, where he leaned on the edge and glowered. Recognising that it was a lot for him to take in, Satya kept silent, studying his expressions as they changed from shock, to disgust, to irritation, to furious denial, and finally, to angry acceptance.

“So that’s gonna happen every time?” Junkrat asked abruptly, spinning to face her.

“Yes.” Satya studied him carefully. “Are you… all right?”

Junkrat scoffed loudly, and jammed his hands into his pockets. “No, I _ain’t_.” He snapped. “Dunno how I could be when I got a damn vampire suckin’ m’blood out at every opportunity!”

Satya frowned at him. “I am not going to feed from you at ‘every opportunity’. I feed only when I need to.”

Junkrat stared at her for a moment. “You-” He enunciated slowly. “-just missed the whole fuckin’ point.” He turned and stalked away, and Satya’s frown deepened. What did he mean? She retreated to her office, puzzling over his words for a long while, and then decided finally to ignore it. She might have felt angry at his rudeness (she never usually tolerated such language), but as he had a lot to deal with right now, she swallowed her pride and let him be. Besides, she had more things to worry about than his inexplicable irritation – things such as, how she was going to make keeping a bloodslave work, and how she was going to keep such incredible blood hidden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, now that jamie knows roughly what he's in for, we can settle into a routine - until things get shaken up a little


	5. Guest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junkrat meets one of Symmetra's vampire friends and has a better time than expected

Junkrat found himself settling into a routine, like it or not – Symmetra let him do whatever the hell he wanted and then, every fortnight or so, she went out to feed and then came back to corner him somewhere, and fastened her mouth to his neck. So far, she’d fed on him seven times – not that Junkrat was counting. He’d pretty much given up hope of escaping, though not really. He just didn’t seem to be able to locate any weaknesses in the very impressive defensive systems the house had installed. Nor could he find his explosives, or his frag launcher. He’d come to the unhappy conclusion that she’d thrown them out or sold them, because Junkrat was buggered if he could find them anywhere, and he’d fairly torn the house apart looking.

Symmetra had been in contact with the ‘council’, whatever the fuck that was. From the little she’d said of them, Junkrat gathered that there was a huge market for the supplies an immortal would need to get by in the modern world, and this council had formed in response to that. Symmetra wanted a new house for them, and Junkrat was terrified. From the snippets of conversations that were held in English, he had deduced that she wanted a house built to hold bloodslaves, and he was sure if she got him in there, he’d never get out.

Something even more horrifying that he refused he contemplate – he now wasn’t entirely sure if he _wanted_ to escape. Of course he wanted to have his freedom back and find Hoggie, but… Symmetra’s bite was addicting. She’d told him bloodslaves grew desperate to offer themselves up to their respective owners and now he could definitely see why, and it was fucking him right off, but she provided the best high he’d ever had and he kept catching himself counting down the days until she’d need to feed again. It was downright unnerving, that’s what it was – Junkrat didn’t want to be addicted to a goddamn vampire sucking his blood! He sighed in disgust and went downstairs, wanting some sort of drink.

Symmetra was in her room and so he remained lost in thought as he rifled through the fridge, wondering where the fuck his lemonade was and had he drunk all of it already? He could have sworn he still had some left – a sound made his head snap up and his body tense, until he registered that it was the doorbell.

The _doorbell_ – Junkrat snuck a glance towards the staircase, and when it revealed no vampires he dashed to the door to peer through the peephole – maybe he could call for help! He plastered his eyeball to the peephole just in time to see a woman holding her hand over the electric keypad, and then she unlocked it somehow and the door slid open and Junkrat fell back. He caught himself with a stagger and looked up, staring into the abruptly wide eyes of a woman clad in a purple coat which matched the ends of her hair.

“Ah! You would be Satya’s new bloodslave, I imagine.” The woman sauntered forwards, and Junkrat forgot to respond. Bloodslave – _this woman was a vampire too._ And Satya? Who the fuck was Satya? “Nice to see she’s finally joined the rest of us-” The woman cut herself off abruptly and inhaled deeply. Junkrat’s blood ran cold when her pupils narrowed to pinpricks and she opened her mouth to reveal jagged fangs. “ _Well_.” She said hoarsely. “Don’t you smell nice?”

In another moment Symmetra was there – she blinked into view, appearing so fast Junkrat didn’t see her coming. She inserted herself between him and the purple vampire, her posture entirely defensive.

“You _stay away_ from him.” Symmetra snarled, and Junkrat scrabbled backwards – _shit, shit, shit_ – did he smell as good to this other vamp as he did to Symmetra? Was she gonna feed from him too? _Would she bother to keep him alive, or kill him?_

“I can’t believe you’ve been hiding such a delicious morsel from us!” The woman in purple grinned, entirely at ease despite Symmetra’s obvious aggression. “My god, he’s _incredible_.” She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, and when she opened her eyes she looked – _hungry_. “You aren’t going to share, Satya?” She asked, moving forward a step, her gaze shifting from Symmetra to Junkrat, and he scurried backwards to hide behind the couch, peering over it fearfully. “I just want a taste. May I?”

“Go upstairs.” Symmetra said quietly, speaking over her shoulder, and Junkrat didn’t need telling twice. He darted for the stairs and rushed up them, but rather than barricade himself in his room like he wanted, he clung to the wall and peered around it, eyeing the purple vampire suspiciously. Dammit – if she tried to attack him he didn’t even have a single measly grenade on him, despite his abortive attempts to make one from whatever he could steal from around the house. Junkrat scowled and hoped to high bloody hell that Symmetra knew what she was doing.

Symmetra had her back to the stairs, and her stance was aggressive, hostile – she looked like a cat with its fur puffed up, just _daring_ the dog to come closer.

“You may not.” She said curtly, anger underlying every word. “He’s _mine_ , Olivia. I don’t know what you’re doing here-”

“I came on behalf of the council.” The woman – Olivia – replied. “And call me Sombra. You know I don’t go by Olivia anymore.”

“Tch. What does the council _want?”_

Olivia – or Sombra – looked past Symmetra to meet his gaze and Junkrat narrowed his eyes at her as she licked her lips very deliberately. “You put in a request for a home with bloodslave quarters – naturally, everyone’s curious to know why you’ve suddenly dropped all your morals after so long.” She took another deep breath. “ _Oh_ , he’s something special, isn’t he? Wherever did you find him?”

Agitation was plain in Symmetra’s tone when she replied. “He’s _mine_.”

Sombra held up her hands in a placating manner. “Of course.” Her eyes strayed back to his and Junkrat shuddered at the hungry look in her eyes. “You gonna drain him…?”

For the first time, he heard a note of dark pleasure in Symmetra’s tone. “Would you waste something _this_ good?”

“Oh, that’s true.” Sombra grinned. “Gonna keep him all to yourself, though? What about feeding parties? You’d be _very_ popular-”

“ _No_.” Symmetra’s tone was forceful. “He’s mine.”

“I’m getting that.” Sombra laughed slightly. “Well, if you won’t let me taste…” Silence followed, and Sombra giggled. “Fine! I’ll leave him alone.” She tilted her head. “You know… I’ve never seen you react like this before, and we’ve hunted together plenty of times. Is he…?”

Symmetra’s tone was quite strange. “What does he… smell like, to you?”

Sombra inhaled deeply, reminding Junkrat irresistibly of a wine connoisseur with a fine vintage in her hand. The comparison scared and worried him – he didn’t want to be the wine she was about to critique. “His blood isn’t ordinary.” She decided at last. “Insofar as I can tell by scent alone. He’s _delicious_ , but…” Bright curiosity appeared in her eyes. “What does he taste like? Obviously he doesn’t sing to you, seeing as you haven’t drained him dry, but-”

Junkrat watched curiously as Symmetra took in a deep, shuddering breath and let her shoulders slump. “He does.” She said quietly, and Sombra’s eyes widened.

“ _Oh_. Damn, your self-control is _crazy_.” She marvelled. “His blood _sings?_ How can you _stand_ it?”

“With great difficulty.” Symmetra said rather dryly. “He doesn’t sing to you?”

“No.” Sombra shook her head decidedly. “He’s far more appealing than most, but he wouldn’t make me lose my head. Have you been feeding from him? How do you _stop?”_

“I don’t feed _only_ upon him.” Symmetra’s body language had relaxed considerably – Junkrat decided that she no longer considered Sombra a threat, and so he relaxed too. “I go out and hunt, and then I take a little from him – he’s my dessert. It’s far easier to stop when you have already gorged yourself.”

Sombra’s brows raised as she considered this. “Oh, that’s smart.” She sighed enviously. “I’m jealous – I wish I’d had the self-control to do that with mine.”

“That’s right.” Symmetra said slowly. “You found one such mortal decades ago, and you-”

“Drained her on the spot.” Sombra finished. “In front of her family, too. That was a messy mistake, I admit, but she was _delicious_.” A dreamy look entered her eyes. “Oh, I wish I’d kept her. She was just _wonderful_.” She shook her head. “Enough of the recollections, hm?” She held up her knapsack. “I brought a drink. Bring your bloodslave down, okay? I want to say a proper hello.”

Junkrat was surprised to find that Symmetra complied – she came up the stairs and he hissed in an undertone that Sombra probably heard anyway that he didn’t trust her, and Symmetra told him not to worry. Faced with the prospect of pissing her off, Junkrat sighed and went downstairs and found Sombra sitting at the breakfast table. Junkrat took his seat next to Symmetra, staring at the other vampire warily as her gaze slid between the two of them – she finally shook her head.

“I’m impressed, Satya – I couldn’t have sat next to my girl like that.” She grinned and pulled from her knapsack a large thermos-looking bottle. “Shall we drink to your impressive self-control?”

A slight smile was playing around Symmetra’s mouth when Junkrat looked over at her, and she rose briefly to fetch some glasses. While she was gone, Sombra leaned forwards.

“So. What’s your name, bloodslave?”

“…Junkrat.” He said after a moment, and her brows raised.

“Is it really? You must have interesting parents. How’d Satya find you?”

Junkrat stared at her cautiously for a moment. “I was out for a walk.” He began. “Went ‘round a corner an’ she was there. Chased me down in half a tic.”

Her brows rose delightedly at his accent. “You’re _Australian?_ Excellent.”

Symmetra returned then, carrying two empty wine glasses as well as a tall glass full of grape juice for him. Junkrat cradled his juice, eyes going wide when Sombra unscrewed the lid of her thermos to pour thick, dark red liquid into the two glasses, and the coppery tang of blood filled the air.

He watched as Symmetra picked up her glass and closed her eyes, holding it under her nose. “Mm.” She said, a hint of surprise in her tone. “This is surprisingly nice. Where…?”

“You like her? She’s nice, isn’t he? She seems to appeal to everyone.” Sombra inhaled the scent of her own glass for a moment. “The council has her locked away – there’s more than one of us who’d fight for her. She hasn’t sung to anyone yet, but everyone agrees that she’s more appealing than most. Much like your friend here.” She nodded at Junkrat over the top of her glass, and he scowled. “I wouldn’t bring him anywhere public, Satya.” Sombra advised. “Collecting is in vogue right now, and-”

This was the weird cherry atop the weird cake, and Junkrat couldn’t stop himself. “Collectin’ _what?”_ He burst out, and Sombra looked amused.

“Bloodslaves, of course. The nicer, the better. You’d be a valuable addition to any self-respecting vampire’s cellar.” She raised her brows at Symmetra. “You planning on starting a collection now?”

To Junkrat’s eternal relief, Symmetra shook her head. “No. I wouldn’t have kept this one if he didn’t sing. You know I prefer the hunt.”

“Yes, but you have to admit it’s awfully convenient.” Sombra grinned, and turned to Junkrat. “Imagine living a hunter-gather life, chasing down your food every single day. That’s what Satya does.”

“Better than keeping _slaves_.” Junkrat mumbled darkly, and took a fortifying gulp of juice.

Sombra laughed out loud. “Oh, I like _him_.” She said with a grin. “He’s got spirit. Try not to break him, Satya.”

“I’ll make a concerted effort.” Symmetra replied mildly. “Does anyone else know you’ve come?”

“Oh, a few.” Sombra flapped her hand. “Old man Rein asked me to come. You’re good friends, aren’t you?”

“We are.” Symmetra agreed. “He asked you to come?”

“He wanted to know what’s made you change your mind about the hunt. What should I tell him?”

Junkrat watched curiously as Symmetra swirled the blood in her glass thoughtfully, before she took a small sip. “Tell him I’ve found one whose blood sings to me.” She replied finally. “And tell Reinhardt I intend to keep him, but please keep it quiet. If anyone who can’t keep their hands to themselves _dares_ to come near him…” Her words trailed off and though the delivery had been mild, the threat was enough to make the hair on his arms rise. Junkrat blinked and sipped his juice.

“Duly noted.” Sombra drained her own glass with an appreciative _smack_ of her lips. “You’re making me feel quite jealous.” She sighed, eyes on his. “I’m very tempted to look until I’ve found one of my own.”

“To drain on the spot?” Symmetra asked delicately, and Sombra laughed.

“Probably. I shall endeavour not to, though. The idea of blood like that… whenever I want it… it’s very appealing.” Her voice was soft and predatory and Junkrat leaned away unconsciously, wishing Sombra’s gaze would move somewhere else.

“Then you see why I restrained myself.” Symmetra gave him a slight smile. “Though it _was_ one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Sombra’s gaze turned speculative. “What’s your vintage?” She asked him, and Junkrat blinked.

“My _what?”_

Symmetra muffled a delicate laugh with her hand. “She wants to know your age.” She explained, and he frowned slightly. _Vintage?_ What was with vampires and wine comparisons?

“Oh, roight, okay. I’m twenty-five.”

“So _young_.” Sombra sighed. “I remember when I was twenty-five.”

The whole time, Junkrat had been mulling over Sombra’s accent, wondering where she was from, and he decided now was the perfect time to find out.

“How old are _you?”_ He asked baldly, and she mock-gasped. 

“How _rude_. Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to ask a lady for her age?” Sombra grinned. “To answer your question, though; I’ll be two hundred and seventy-three in October.”

Junkrat gaped, and completely forgot to ask where she was from. “Oh, uh…” He groped about for something to say. “Uh…. uhhhhh…. lookin’ good?”

Sombra giggled. “Of course, I’m a mere _infant_ compared to our lovely Satya. My dear, why not tell your new young man by how many years you dwarf him?”

Symmetra looked vaguely amused. “I am not entirely sure.” She said, and Junkrat furrowed his brow. “I stopped counting some time ago.”

“How old were ya then?” He asked curiously, and Symmetra placed her now empty glass back on the table.

“Three thousand, six hundred or so.” She said, and Junkrat’s jaw dropped.

“Uh…. uhhhhh...” How long ago did ya stop countin’?” He asked weakly, and the corner of her mouth ticked up.

“A millennium, at least.”

“A millennium _.._.” Junkrat repeated vaguely. A _millennium_... that was a thousand years, and she’d stopped counting at three thousand, six hundred? She was well over _four thousand_ years old… _Jesus fucking Christ_. “You’re like, five thousand years old.” He mumbled, blinking hard as he tried to force the numbers to make sense in his brain.

“Give or take a few centuries.” Symmetra shrugged elegantly. “Over time, age becomes meaningless. Now I celebrate millennia where I once marvelled at the passing of centuries.”

“I can’t wait till _I’m_ a millennium old.” Sombra said enthusiastically. “I want to say wise shit like that to all the youngins.”

“You’ve a way to go, I’m afraid.” Symmetra raised her brows. “Did you intend on staying in the area…?”

“Sort of. I’ve got a friend a few cities over that I’ll be visiting. Rein only asked me in particular to see you because he knew I’d be in the area.”

“I see.”

Sombra checked the lid of her thermos to ensure it wouldn’t leak before she slipped it into her knapsack. “I might head off.” She said, climbing to her feet. “Thank you for your hospitality, Satya. I’ll tell Rein and the council your request is genuine. And just ‘cause we’re friends, I _won’t_ tell everyone how utterly mouth-watering your bloodslave is.” Her grin was mischievous, and Symmetra smiled.

 “Thank you, Olivia. I appreciate it.” She said, her tone very deliberately neutral, and then the door was closed and Sombra was gone. Symmetra stood there in front of the door for a minute or two and then she turned to face him, and his questions burst out.

“Who the _fuck_ was that?” Junkrat asked, and she frowned.

“Olivia Colomar, though she prefers to be called Sombra.”

“An’ she’s a vampire? A vetala?”

To his surprise, Symmetra shook her head. “No, she isn’t a vetala.”

Junkrat thought furiously for a moment. The woman _had_ been drinking blood. “But… she is a vamp?”

“She is. A Civatateo, to be precise.” Symmetra began pacing, clearly deep in thought, and Junkrat blinked.

“A _what?”_

“A Civatateo.” Satya waved her hand impatiently. “She’s Mexican.”

“Oh.” Junkrat watched her pace for a moment, and then another thought occurred to him. “So… Satya?” He asked cautiously, and her head snapped up, her eyes narrowing.

“She had _no right_ to call me that in front of you…” She growled, but then shrugged irritably. “I suppose it doesn’t matter now. My true name is Satya. You may call me that, if you wish.”

“Cool.” He mumbled. _Satya_ … it was a pretty sort of name. “Satya… that Indian?” He asked, and her expression turned amused.

“It is. Sanskrit, to be precise.” She elaborated. “Which is the oldest tongue I speak that still exists. The language I spoke when I was turned no longer exists. It’s quite inconvenient.”

“Roight. Five thousand years ago. Gotcha.” He tried to imagine it, then frowned. “Wait, y'name is Sanskrit but... y'were turned before Sanskrit got invented? How the fuck's that work?"

The corner of Satya's mouth turned up. "Language evolves, you know. It's been fascinating to watch. My name existed, but it didn't necessarily hold the same meaning, nor was it pronounced with the same inflections... I've adapted as the language has changed, or else mortals would notice."

"Oh." This led him to some other fascinating thoughts, and he stared, thoroughly invested in her past. "What was it like? Living back then, I mean. Y’must have seen a lot of shit over the years.” Junkrat gestured vaguely about, before his gaze landed on the television. “Saw a lot of tech get invented?”

Satya followed his gaze and smiled when she saw the tv. “Yes, I’ve seen it all. I’ve seen the rise and fall of empires and I’ve seen kings come and go. Technology, though – it has been _fascinating_ to see that develop. Humans are very inventive.”

“Oh shit… you’ll get t’see the future!” Junkrat marvelled. “That’s fuckin’ _awesome_ , actually.”

She smiled again. “I know. I look forward to it too.”

What the two of them were unfortunately unaware of as the discussed the ins and outs of immortality, was that Sombra had been noticed, observed, and followed. Designated a high priority when Junkrat, obviously human, had been seen through the window, the slayers had abandoned Sombra and were now camped out on the roof of a nearby building, casing the joint and planning on working out Satya’s schedule, as well as a possible way in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually completely forgot I was even writing this for like two months, whoops 
> 
> next chapter will be interesting, poor satya'll have to protect her human from slayers now~


	6. Hunted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Satya needs to feed, and nothing goes according to plan

The next time Satya went to feed, it was about a fortnight after Sombra had visited. She slipped out the door, locking Junkrat inside, and immediately her intuition prickled. She paused to look about but saw nothing incriminating, and a deep, exploratory breath revealed nothing to her. Satya continued on – she was thirsty and her body now expected Junkrat’s blood – if she went back inside without feeding on another, things might go very badly.

She headed into the city, aiming for someone going home by themselves – if she was lucky, she’d find a nice quiet alley or nook in which to feed in peace. The slayers following her – they were very good. Despite the feeling that something wasn’t quite right, they managed to remain concealed from her until Satya had singled out and was tracking her prey – she tensed at the sound of a deliberate footstep behind her and whirled to see a gun aimed squarely at her face.

Satya stood still, assessing the slayer. It was then that the second slayer stepped from the shadows, and her eyes narrowed – two of them. It wasn’t odds she’d never faced before, but in this day and age the slayers had much more sophisticated weapons – a fight she would have won a thousand years ago was, in the twenty-first century, a much dicier proposition. Still, she eyed them calmly.

One was a man – he had the gun. He wore a beard and a cigarillo hung from his lips, while his partner wielded a vicious looking sword. On closer examination, Satya decided the other must be an omnic – she’d never seen such a exo-suit before in her life, and yet the form of them was much more human than most omnics. It was a puzzle Satya didn’t care to answer, for that would involve getting closer to them, and that was something she had no intention of doing.

“Hello there, little lady,” drawled the man with the gun, and Satya scowled as she heard the footsteps of her prey getting further away – they’d  _ ruined _ her meal. “Hope you’re havin’ a shitty day.”

“Quite the contrary,” Satya sneered, eyeing them carefully and deciding who to attack first… the gun was certainly a problem, for if he got a clean shot through her heart, she would die. Similarly, death would follow if she was to be beheaded. While living with the loss of a limb was annoying at best and extraordinarily uncomfortable at worst (as she had daily proof since losing her left arm to an axe-wielding slayer whose timing was off. He’d missed her head but taken her arm, though he’d paid for his error with his life), she couldn’t die from such a wound, nor would stabbing her anywhere other than her heart, and so if she was careful, she might well come away relatively unharmed. “I suppose you’re here to kill me,” she said coolly. “Might I at least have the honour of knowing the names of my assassins?”

“Sure, just so long as y’do the same,” the man drawled – he had an American accent. “The name’s Jesse McCree, and m’partner here’s Genji Shimada.”

The omnic-looking thing lifted its chin, then a plate covering the eyes raised and Satya glimpsed scarred, but very much human flesh beneath. So he wasn’t an omnic after all. “And you would be?” he asked, and she thought his accent was Japanese. They made an odd pairing, and she wondered briefly how they’d met.

“‘Course, we been watchin’ ya,” McCree interjected. “We know who y’are, but verifyin’ it never hurts.”

“Of course,” Satya said courteously. “You might know me as Symmetra.”

McCree nodded. “Ah, we heard you’ve been callin’ yourself that.”

“We believe your true name is Satya.” Shimada finished for him. “Is that correct?”

“Satya Vaswani,” she replied – there was no harm in this, they already knew who she was. She needed to kill them – neither of them smelt like they had anything in their system to render their blood distasteful, though the American reeked of smoke – they would replace the meal they had interrupted. Truth be told, Satya was rather enjoying the little song and dance – most hunters got straight down to business, but some liked to confront the vampires they killed. Knowing who they were always made her victories sweeter.

Satya tensed, leaning into a stance that would allow her to attack, but then the American spoke.

“Filthy fuckin’ vamps.” He spat on the ground. “You and your nasty little bloodslave aren’t gonna live to the see the sunlight.” He and his partner tensed for battle, but Satya had frozen at his words.

“…Bloodslave?” she asked faintly, rooted to the spot. Of course – they’d said they’d been watching her. They must know her house – they must know who  _ else _ was inside.  _ Oh dear Gods _ – she’d never had to worry about her bloodslaves before, having never owned them, but if they  _ hurt _ Junkrat… her lips twisted into a snarl.

“Ooh, lookit that, she’s pissed. Don’t wanna see your bloodslave cark it? Filthy creature you are.” McCree wore an expression of utter contempt. “Don’t worry – we’ll put the poor pathetic bastard out of his misery.”

_ No _ .

She knew that there were slayers who viewed bloodslaves as tainted, beyond saving – they executed their fellow humans on the spot, humans whose only crime had been to be taken as a blood supply for one vampire or another. Some slayers would take the bloodslaves and free them, but these two… they were going to kill Junkrat after they had dealt with her. Or so they thought. Fury burned through her, and Satya focused on the smug American before she launched herself at his throat.

Taken by surprise, McCree cried out and stumbled under her weight as she tackled him, but even as he fell back he had enough skill to block her as she drove her talons down towards his throat – steel wrist plates.  _ Smart _ . The faint  _ hiss _ of Shimada’s sword as it swung in a deadly arc towards her neck gave her warning and Satya hurled herself beneath the blade, catching his midsection with her shoulder and throwing him off balance, and then she darted backwards, eyes narrowed as she contemplated her options. As it stood, she had the best chance of killing McCree – armed with only teeth and talons, she didn’t quite see how she would get through the armoured plating encasing Shimada’s form, but the American had soft flesh exposed – she could kill him. McCree was up on his feet, and as he raised his gun she slipped into the shadows and darted forwards, using her smaller stature to duck beneath his gun and drive her talons through the leather covering his bicep, splattering the ground with blood. He bellowed in pain and swung at her, but in hand to hand combat she was proficient, and Satya parried the blow before striking at the weakest part of his arm with a force that sent him staggering back a step, the grimace on his face telling her she’d successfully numbed the limb.

Shimada swung at her again and again, taking her attention from the American as she danced backwards – he thought he was driving her back but Satya was luring him forwards, into the narrow neck of the alleyway, where he would have much less room to manoeuvre his sword. McCree leapt to his feet, raised his gun and fired – Satya dodged the bullet but Shimada took the opportunity to press her, and though she avoided a catastrophic blow, he sliced into her shoulder, drenching her shirt in warm blood.

Satya snarled in pain as she threw herself backwards and grabbed her shoulder with her metal hand, feeling blood ooze from the wound, and rapidly reassessed things. McCree was lining up another shot – Shimada was waiting, his blade dripping with her blood. Satya decided that in the interest of safety that she needed to leave, and so she phased backwards into the shadows as fast as she could, and then, still within the shadows, sprinted away. She could hear them chasing her – they were tracking the splotches of blood that dripped from her wound. Satya made a new plan, veering down a different street.

She had to get back to her house, get Junkrat and get out of there – but she couldn’t lead the slayers back there. Not injured, with Junkrat to protect. Satya led the two slayers on a wild goose chase until she was satisfied they were far enough away, running at a speed they could comfortably follow (but not catch her – the aim of the game was to make them think she was badly injured, and that they would run her down soon enough), and then she spat venom into her hand and slathered it over her shoulder with a grimace, sealing the wound, and then she melted into the shadows and took off, sprinting towards her home as fast as she could possibly go.

 

* * *

 

Junkrat was watching tv in the living room – the tv was bigger in there. Satya was out feeding and the stupidest mix of butterflies were flitting around in his stomach – half of them were revolted at the idea of her feeding on anyone, and the other half was checking the clock every five seconds to see when she would return and feed upon  _ him _ .

All at once, the front door smashed open and Satya burst in, covered in blood with the most terrifying snarl on her face. She saw him frozen with shock on the couch and rushed towards him, hauling him to his feet by his arm.

“Get your things,” she snapped. “We’re leaving.”

“What?” Junkrat said blankly.

“Hurry!” Satya released him and flashed upstairs, and Junkrat hurried after her. He reached her room and found her hurling her belongings willy-nilly into a suitcase, and then she threw a second one at his head. Junkrat caught it before it knocked him the fuck out and he stared, a sense of intense dread washing over him. Something had happened – something bad.

“What’s goin’ on?” he demanded fearfully, and Satya looked up as she upended a jewellery box into her suitcase, looking frazzled. She was always so  _ neat _ – something must have spooked her to make her pack like this.

“Slayers,” she snarled. “They’ve tracked me down – they tried to kill me. They’ve been watching the house.”

A shiver of fear ran down his spine. “They hurt ya?”

“They did,” she said grimly. “And we have to leave before they get here! I’m hurt and there’s two of them – and you. I can’t protect you as well.”

“Why do I need protectin’?” Junkrat asked blankly. “I ain’t a vamp.”

“You’re a bloodslave – in their eyes, you’re tainted. They’ll think of it as nothing more than putting down a mad dog.”

“Oh,” Junkrat said weakly, as fear bolted through him. “Oh,  _ shit _ .” He took the suitcase Satya had thrown at him and rushed to his bedroom, where he ransacked the cupboards, tossing in everything she’d bought for him. Christ, what he wouldn’t give for Roadie! Or his bombs. Junkrat was on the verge of rushing back to her room to demand that she give them back when Satya appeared in his doorway – she had her suitcase in one hand and she’d changed her blood-spattered clothes – and in her other hand she held a bag, which she tossed lightly onto his bed. Junkrat stared for a moment and then recognised his frag launcher, and ripped the bag fully open to see all his grenades and his explosives. He nearly died on the spot and when he looked up, it was to see her wearing a troubled expression.

“These slayers won’t hesitate to kill you, so don’t hesitate to defend yourself,” she said tightly. “Now get to the car. We haven’t any time to spare.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so uh, it's been a while! lost my muse for this but recently rediscovered it, which has been fun. this is a fairly short chapter i know, but it was mostly setting up events of the next chapter, wherein jamie learns what happens when a vampire is denied her food

**Author's Note:**

> I realised that even though i've done heaps of monster au's, I've never done a vamp one even though satya has a canon vamp skin, so it's vampire au time, hell yeah
> 
> poor jamie, he's in for a wild ride once he wakes up


End file.
